And She's Crazy
by raspberryseedz
Summary: *Now with -42% more Thai food.* Bugs still wasn't sure how exactly it happened, but in the span of about two seconds he had gone from "Lola's not my girlfriend. And she's crazy." to "Lola's crazy. And also she's my girlfriend." In-between scenes from The Looney Tunes Show about Bugs/Lola's wacky, dysfunctional courtship.
1. We'll Always Have Paris

_A/N: So I've really been digging the way the Bugs/Lola relationship has been evolving on the show, namely the fact that it actually does, and wanted to see if I could flesh it out a little bit. I won't be writing a chapter on every episode, just whatever idea strikes me, though I probably will be spanning to the end of the series by the time this is done. I don't know if this will interest anybody besides me, or even turn out that good, but 'ere it goes anyway!_

_This chapter takes place during Eligible Bachelors. The title is from the movie Casablanca._

* * *

**We'll Always Have Paris**

They had nine and half hours till Paris. There was a baby three rows back that would not stop crying. Lola had somehow gummed up their TV trying to turn on French subtitles for the movie they were watching and the screen was nothing but blue. She had apparently exhausted every airplane, travel, and Paris related topic she knew enough to talk about, including all the different cities in France that were named after a food. Bugs tried to tell her Hamburg was not in France and that Croissant was in no way a city before realizing she hadn't heard him and checking out of the conversation entirely. He currently had one of her magazines folded over his eyes and was trying desperately to will himself anywhere but this particular seat in this particular plane.

Lola was breathing suspiciously close to his ear. Even through the pages of the magazine he could feel her eyes on him. "Bugs…" she poked him in the ribs, "Are you sleeping?" she whispered. Bugs remained perfectly still. She lifted the corner of the book until she could see his closed eyes.

"Bugs!" she shouted into his ear. He jumped high enough to hit the ceiling.

"What was dat for?" Bugs snapped. His ears flattened down protectively.

Lola backed into her seat as far as she could go, looking guilty. "I didn't know if you were awake or not."

"Well, I am now," he grumbled. "What is it?"

"I saw a whale."

"What?" Bugs tried to lean over her to make out the view through the tiny window. "We aren't even over water."

"No, in the clouds. See that big one," she pointed. "Well, it's kinda morphed into a marshmallow now, but I swear it looked just like a whale earlier. Oooh, and that one looks like a unicorn…"

"This game is usually easier to play on the ground," Bugs pointed out.

"It's a game? Oh, we could go cloud-watching in Paris…" she squealed.

Bugs shrugged noncommittally. "If that's how you want to spend your four hours…"

"Hmm, you're right," Lola took on an oddly serious expression. "We can go cloud-watching anywhere. Except for the desert. Or Mars. We should stick to Paris-specific things, like the Louvre or… what was the name of that river again?"

"The Seine…"

"No, I think that's in the Amazon…" she tapped her finger against her chin. "Anyway, I think we should start at the Louvre first and work our way around. We'll probably have to ask directions, I've never been to Paris so I'm not sure where everything is. Have you ever been to Paris?"

"Nope." Something in Bugs's brain twitched at the thought that his first trip to Paris would be four wandering hours with a certifiably crazy person on a somewhat extorted date.

Lola leaned back in her seat with her arms cradling her head. "Well, lucky for us I speak French. So getting directions won't be a problem."

"You speak French?" Bugs asked, surprised.

"Why yes," Lola began in a nasally voice that approximated a French accent. "I am full of surprises, no?"

Bugs hoped that wasn't what she meant by 'speaking French'. "Did the wedding planner guy teach you that? What was his name?"

A strange look crept across her face at the mention of the skunk. She crossed her arms in a tight huff and slumped in her seat. "I don't recall," she said coldly.

"Whatever happened to that guy?" Bugs asked. He knew he was prying, but it was a fair question, right? Lola's flighty attraction for the skunk was the only reason their whirlwind wedding that July had broken off at the last minute. In a way Bugs owed him for bringing that whole mess to an end since he apparently hadn't had the guts to.

"I haven't the faintest idea what happened to him. Nor do I care," Lola said in an obviously overcompensated smug voice.

"Seriously? You left me at the altar for that guy and you're not gonna tell me what happened?"

Lola glowered out the window. "We broke up. He wasn't my type."

"That's it, huh?" That clearly wasn't it. And Bugs had a feeling that if that relationship had ended on Lola's terms she wouldn't be so reluctant to talk about it.

"It was for the best," she said calmly, "And it made me realize a _very_ important thing," she turned to him, leaning in close, "It made me realize what a _huge mistake_ it was letting you go!" She suddenly threw her arms around his middle in an awkward embrace. Bugs stiffened. "Oh, Bun-bun, can you ever forgive me," Lola half-sobbed into his neck. Her shoulder dug into his collarbone.

"Lola, stop it, its okay," Bugs leaned so far back he was practically falling out of his chair trying to maneuver out of her hug. He instantly regretted bringing up anything to do with that disastrous almost-wedding. "I forgive you, alright? Please, pleeeaaase stop crying," he begged.

"But I left and now you're not in love with me anymore," Lola choked.

"I wasn't in love with you in the first place, now would you _please_ stop hugging me," Bugs finally wriggled his arms free and firmly pushed her away.

Lola's head snapped up, her eyes huge and red and faintly glistening. "You weren't in love with me?" she said slowly.

Bugs braced himself for the outburst, the inevitable sobbing or violent anger or hopelessly endless rant. He knew it was a cruel thing to say to her, especially when she was already upset and obviously just got out of a bad relationship, but he wasn't about to be roped into another a wedding ceremony simply because he couldn't handle being painfully honest with her this time. It wasn't his fault if she was lonely. And besides, she went through emotional extremes like a roller coaster; she'd get over it.

Lola stared at him blankly. He knew he should explain to her how he felt; try to lighten the blow by placing the blame something other than her and her insane personality. Before he had the chance to put his words together she broke into a huge grin.

"That's great!" she exclaimed. The passengers surrounding them all collectively hissed at her to be quiet. She ignored them.

"It's what now?" Bugs blanched, still holding her at arm's length.

Lola looked enraptured. You wouldn't have been able to guess she'd just been sobbing a few seconds ago. She was overjoyed. She started talking a mile a minute, "I was afraid it'd be impossible to get our relationship back to where it was with all the baggage from my leaving you, but if you weren't in love with me then we won't have to recapture that love over again. There's nothing to recapture! We haven't gotten to the strongest point of love yet, there's no place to go but up."

Bugs's mind spun trying to follow her logic, or lack thereof. Panic began to creep in. "Ehhh, what? Lola, that's not how that works…"

"Wow, I feel better," she gasped in relief, "And how lucky is it that we're going to Paris! The ultimate romantic destination in the entire world. This was the best idea ever! We'll fall in love there, no problem."

"Is that why you're dragging me on this trip? I'm not gonna fall in love just because we happen to be in Paris."

She shook her head, clicking her tongue like she was trying to scold him. "Not a romantic, are you? Paris will fix that."

"Lola, that's insane," Bugs protested.

She smiled, slyly tapping a finger against his nose. "Exactly."

* * *

There were twenty minutes till California. They both slept most of the flight back, but Lola had woken up first. She stretched until her back gave a satisfying crack. Two ten hour flights back to back were too many. At least they didn't have to get re-accustomed to the time change and she didn't have to bring her usual six travel suitcases.

She thought about waking Bugs but decided against it. He probably needed the sleep and he looked kinda cute with his head sagging lazily onto his chest and his ears drooping. She fished out her camera and snapped a picture. He twitched at the noise but didn't wake up. Luckily for her the flash was off.

Lola sat back and started cycling through the rest of her pictures. The first several were of Bugs sitting with his arms crossed on the earlier flight to Paris before the stewardess confiscated her camera. Apparently plane flights made him kind of grumpy. And you weren't allowed to use flash inside a commercial aircraft. The next two photos were of them arriving in Paris. One shot of Bugs passing through customs and another close up of the two of them crammed in a Taxi. She wasn't a particularly good photographer and most of the candid photos she'd taken of him were cut off at the ears or cropped too far to one side or was 80% sky. The ones she hadn't taken were all photos of them at various Paris icons. Them standing under the Brooklyn bridge, in front of Stonehenge, at the gates of the White House. And then there were the pictures of the things they did after he'd gotten her to stop talking. Her riding behind him on the moped, the can-can show that they crashed, the mime that they mimicked until he got annoyed enough to hail an invisible cab and left. She wished she had taken more pictures, but they had been a little distracted.

As Lola shifted through photo after photo of her and Bugs smiling broadly in the most beautiful city in the world something occurred to her. If Bugs liked her when she was being quiet, he could like her when she was talking, too. He just needed a bit more work, that was all. She just had to try harder.

The intercom switched on, announcing the airplane preparing to land. Bugs jolted awake at the noise.

"Mornin' Sleepyhead!" she chirped. "We're almost home."

"So they say," Bugs said, referring to the announcement. He yawned, "Thanks for letting me sleep."

"No problem," she smiled.

He noticed the camera and leaned over her shoulder to see the picture. "Is that the bridge?" he asked, pointing.

"Yeah, wanna see the rest?" She handed him the camera.

"What's dat streak?" he asked, pointing to a grey blur in the corner of one of her Eiffel Tower shots.

"I think that's your ear," she replied.

"Who taught you to use a camera? A chimpanzee?"

"No," she bristled. "Your pictures aren't that much better, mister."

"That's because I didn't take any," he countered. "This one 'ere's pretty good." He pointed at the shot of the two of them in front of the Eiffel Tower. That wasn't one of hers either. She'd gotten another tourist to take it so they both could be in the picture. Her arm was raised energetically into the air and his was wrapped comfortably around her waist. It was well framed, bright, perfectly in focus, it was a great picture.

"I like that one, too. We should get copies made!"

Bugs nodded. "Sure."

She perked up instantly. "Really? We can go right now! Well, not now, we're still thousands of feet in the air but when we land…"

He touched a finger to her nose, silencing her for a moment. "Lola, I get it."

For the second time that day, Lola tried not to talk. She really tried. She held her breath and focused on his face, on the odd look he was giving her that wasn't quite a smile and wasn't quite a frown either. No one had ever really insisted she'd be quiet before, at least no one that mattered. She wondered what he saw in it. It was kind of boring.

Mercifully, the stewardess came by to check seat belts before she could blurt out anything too embarrassing and the plane was soon descending. Lola loved riding takeoffs and landings in planes, they reminded her a little of roller coasters or sky diving or hayrides. She explained it to Bugs and he reacted with the same curious expression he used a lot when she was explaining something.

They hadn't really brought much with them to Paris since it was only a four hour trip. Bugs had a small suitcase with a painting and a few other things they let him bring as a carry-on so they didn't have to wait for luggage. The attendant checking her passport had quite a few pressing questions about that, but eventually let them through after they'd both been searched.

"I always get stopped by those guys," Lola complained after they were safe in her car, down the freeway, and well away from the airport.

"I can imagine…" Bugs replied.

Lola accelerated into the carpool lane. She was technically slightly over her twenty-four hour time limit with Bugs and she wanted a way to stretch it for as long as possible. She could miss the freeway exit to his house… or maybe the car would break down… why didn't she think to skip filling her gas tank before they left?

Bugs still had her camera in both hands, quietly focused on the pictures he was scrolling through. "Y'know," he said, "I actually had a really good time today… Yesterday," he amended. "Not that I want to be kidnapped and dragged to Rome or Bosnia or something."

"Now would I do a thing like that?" she said in a high, coquettish voice. She grinned at him innocently.

"I dunno, but the way you said that isn't exactly convincing," Bugs remarked.

Lola laughed, waving him off. "Please, I didn't kidnap you. I bought you. For charity. There's a huge difference."

"Yeah, well, let's not make either thing a habit, okay?" he asked. "I don't think I'll be up for sale again any time soon."

Lola bit down on a frown. She was going to have to come up with other ways to get them together. Dolling out thousands of dollars every time she wanted to go out with him was never going to work in the long term, but she'd hoped he'd be an easier heart to crack than this. She'd never been with anyone this difficult. Strangely, it wasn't as frustrating as she might've feared. It made him a little challenging, a little harder to figure out than most people. It was actually kind of attractive.

"Lola?"

"Hmmm…?"

"You hadn't said anything in two minutes. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I thought you liked it when I didn't talk?" she said, half innocence and half baiting.

His nose twitched. "It's not that…" he said slowly. "I just thought you liked it when you did."

"When I did what?"

"Talk."

"About what?"

"I don't know, whatever it is you talk about."

"I think you'll have to be more specific."

"More specific?"

"What kinds of things are you talking about?"

"Not me, I was talking about you."

"Okay, now I'm completely lost. Can we start this conversation over?"

"Ehh, I honestly don't remember how it started."

They sat in baffled silence for a few seconds. Then she started giggling. He cracked a smile.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

She broke into a cackle. "I… don't… even… know…" she breathed between chuckles. The giggle fit was almost completely involuntary. She wasn't sure why it started, if she was simply overtired or if the way he'd said 'what's so funny' was actually that hilarious, and she wasn't sure how she was going to get it to stop. She was laughing so hard the corners of her eyes were starting to tear up.

"You really are crazy." Bugs shook his head lightly.

She took a few deep, gasping breaths and calmed down long enough to make the exit off the freeway. Then something caught her eye. "Oooh, there's a photo store! We can get our pictures printed!" she made a hard, tire squealing u-turn that had Bugs gripping the inside door handle and pulled into the parking lot.

Bugs looked down at the almost forgotten camera, continuing his scroll through to the last photo. He frowned. "Is that one of me sleeping?"

Lola snatched the camera back and ran into the store, trying to muffle another ill-timed giggle fit.


	2. You Might As Well Live

_A/N: Sorry about the wait, folks, I'm trying to cobble together time between work and school for these so I beg your patience between updates. Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed/followed/favorite-ed. You are awesome. _

_This chapter takes place before Double Date. The title will make sense in a bit._

* * *

**You Might As Well Live**

Bugs didn't end up at the library often, but it was small enough and he'd been there enough times to have the layout pretty much memorized. He made a beeline down the third aisle to the right, scanning for anything interesting among the new arrivals. There were a whole section of mystery novels, a few obligatory paranormal romances, and a collection of Dorothy Parker poems. He bypassed the others and pulled the Parker book off the shelf, jumping back with a start at the sight of a large eye blinking at him from the empty space where the book once sat.

"Hey, Bun-bun! What'cha doin'?" Lola chirped from behind the bookshelf. She pushed a section of books over, making a space wide enough to reveal her whole face.

Bugs backed up the narrow aisle until he lightly bumped into the next bookshelf, blocked from going any further. "Lola, wha'… W...where did you…?"

"What are you reading?" She leaned forward as far as she could, her forearms braced on the shelf.

"Lola, did you follow me here?" Bugs asked point-blank.

"What?…_nooo…_ did I follow you, no!" Lola gave an unconvincing, scoffing sort of chuckle. "I come here all the…"

"Young lady!" a voice hissed from the front desk. A large woman with a rather severe, blade shaped nose glared Lola down and put a finger to her lips. "Quiet!"

Lola ducked sheepishly behind a hardcopy of The Tell-Tale Heart. "I come here all the time," she whispered.

"Made a few friends and everything," Bugs said sardonically, glancing at the librarian.

"I think she's new…" Lola peeked around the shelf and determined that the woman was, in fact, still glaring fixedly at her from her perch at the front desk.

"She's been in charge of this place since the late 90s. Her name's April." Bugs replied pointedly. "And she _will_ fillet your vocal chords if you get too loud. Just so you know," He pushed the stack of books she'd moved back into place, blocking her from view, and continued moving down the aisle. He wasn't about to explain that the only reason he knew April's name was because Daffy had demolished the library's outdoor book-drop-box with his car ten years ago. It had taken six months of volunteer work and a hit from Bugs's bank account to smooth the incident over, but he'd always remember April and her territorial nature when it came to her library.

"I think it's great that you read," Lola whispered from the other aisle. Bugs could tell by the way her voice rose and dropped that she was hopping up and down, trying to maintain eye contact through the little gaps between the books and the bottom of the shelf above them. She reached the end of the aisle about the same time he did and swung with one hand around the bookcase in order to block his path. The whole shelving unit swayed in tandem with her.

"Ya know 25% of Americans won't even read a book this year," she recited. "Isn't that crazy?"

Bugs cocked an eyebrow. "Are you referring to the statistic they post on the bulletin board to give people who've already walked into a library some brief sense of superiority?"

Lola blinked. Her eyes darted to the very bulletin board across the room and then back at Bugs again. "Yeah…"

"Nice talkin' to you, Lola," Bugs dryly ended the conversation. He sidestepped around her in an attempt to leave but she somehow caught the book he was carrying in both hands and stopped him.

She twisted her head in order to read the front cover. Her eyes squinted and her ponytail swung in an odd tilt. "Dorothy Parker…" she murmured. "Like that girl in The Wizard of Oz?" she asked brightly.

"No, not Dorothy the fictional character. Dorothy Parker was a real person. She was a poet." He let go of the book in lieu of handing it to her.

Lola straightened and flipped the pages open with uncompromisable interest. Her eye caught on one of the shorter entries and she began reading softly, almost to herself.

"_Resume._

_Razors pain you;_

_Rivers are damp;_

_Acids stain you;_

_And drugs cause cramp._

_Guns aren't lawful;_

_Nooses give;_

_Gas smells awful;_

_You might as well live."_

Her nose wrinkled. She read the last line over again and then frowned. "Well, that's kinda depressing."

"It's a joke," Bugs explained with explained with a little shrug. "She's making light of death like it's too much of a hassle. It's funny."

"Funny, huh?" She eyed him strangely, like she wasn't sure what to make of him anymore. "Oh, y'know what's funny, I heard this joke about a beaver… no wait, I think it was a sea lion, no the sea lion was the bartender… isn't that silly, I can't remember who walked into the bar…"

"I thought I told you to _be quiet_!" a harsh voice sounded behind Lola and she whirled around in surprise. Bugs had to duck to avoid being whacked in the face by her ears.

"Well, I was just… uh…" Lola squeaked, clutching the Dorothy Parker book in front of her like a shield. The librarian towered over her, fists planted firmly on her hips, eyes inflamed.

"April, didn't see you 'dere…" Bugs said as nonchalantly as possible. He maneuvered between them, subtly preparing to back down the nearest aisle should he need to make a quick escape. "You haven't met yet, have you? Lola this is April. April…Lola. She's just discovering dark comedy, but I don't think she's a big fan." He said to April, slow enough to come off casually but so fast there was no space for either her or Lola to interject. "You could show her where you keep L. Frank Baum's work. She likes The Wizard of Oz, though I'm not sure about the spin-offs. How many spin-offs did that ol' book get anyway?"

April looked a little lost, as if she couldn't remember why she'd left her desk in the first place. "I'm not sure… I could check the computer."

"Check the computer, there ya go," Bugs turned to Lola, "See, all you gotta do to get good help is ask for it." Lola stared blankly at him, looking just as lost as the librarian. He turned back to April. "Why don't you check that computer and we'll be off in the dark comedy section…"

April nodded slowly, walking back to her desk in a resigned, head-shaking kind of daze. Lola followed her with her eyes, not daring to open her mouth until the librarian had safely returned to her post in the front desk chair.

"There's a dark comedy section?" she whispered, leaning in close to Bugs.

"If you came here all the time you'd know there isn't," he whispered back.

"Right," she glanced down at her feet. "Thanks for that. I really thought she was going to rip my voice out for a second there."

"Don't worry about it. Stop following me into places and we'll call it even."

Lola smiled sheepishly and nodded.

Bugs turned to leave. Lola matched his steps, any closer and she'd be bumping into him. Bugs stopped and shot her a narrow look.

"No following. Gotcha." She took several exaggerated steps backwards, coming to a stop right alongside a bookshelf.

He repeated the beeline route he'd taken to get in. He didn't dare glance at the front desk as he past it in case April finally put together what happened and decided to unleash her brand of verbal abuse on him. There were only few feet left to sweet freedom when he heard Lola call from behind:

"Oh, Bugs, you forgot your book!"

He didn't see all of what happened next, but a split second after she'd shouted his name there was a loud, banging noise followed by several heavy objects pattering to the ground like five pound raindrops, followed by another loud bang. When morbid curiosity finally took over he looked back down the hall to see a succession of bookcases tipping over, knocking into each other one by one like dominoes, and dumping books to the ground in the process. The last bookshelf fell into the bulletin board, punching a solid hole into the _25% of Americans won't read a book this year_ poster. Lola stood at one end of the room, eyes wide enough to each hold a teacup. April stood behind her desk at the other end, her stare probably capable of frying an egg.

Bugs backed out the door and sprinted for his car.

* * *

The next time they ran into each other was in line for takeout. On Tuesday nights from five to seven the local sushi place would offer half off on select items and the line would often stretch out the door. Daffy always insisted on going and Bugs didn't mind so much as long as he didn't have to pay full price. They had just gotten through the door when Bugs noticed Lola standing in line six or seven people in front of them, her back still turned.

"Hey, Daffy, how 'bout pizza tonight. We haven't had pizza in like two days," he suggested.

"Have you gone mad?" Daffy looked scandalized. "And miss the sweet and sour s-thrimp?" He frowned, realizing he didn't have Bugs's full attention and followed his eye line around the restaurant to the girl bunny up ahead. "Hey, doesn't she look familiar?" he asked.

"Who?"

"The one with the weird ear-do," Daffy made a swooping motion with one hand mimicking a ponytail. "Wasn't she your secretary or something?"

Bugs gave Daffy an incredulous look.

"Daffy, that's Lola. You remember the country club… You were using her father's membership number… I almost got married…"

"Oh, your girlfriend, Lola!"

"She's _not_ my…"

"_Hey, Lola!_" Daffy cupped his hands around his beak and shouted, loud enough to catch the attention of everyone in a five-mile radius. Lola whirled around in alarm, searching for the source of the unfamiliar voice and her eyes caught sight of Daffy frantically waving at her and Bugs frozen in place next to him. Bugs mentally debated whether he should make a break for it or dump Daffy in the deep fryer. Or try for both.

Lola's face switched from perplexed to ecstatic on a dime. "Hey guys, over here!" She waved them over.

"Sweet! C'mon," Daffy left the line, pulling Bugs by the arm.

"Daffy, I'm not goin' over there." Bugs dug his heels into the floor.

"Of course you are. She's letting us cut in line. Don't squander these opportunities, Bugs. Embrace them. Live them," Daffy's voice dipped low and intense. "Tonight we cut this line _like kings!"_

With that Daffy pushed through several disapproving patrons with a disgruntled Bugs Bunny in tow until they reached Lola.

"Hey, Bun-bun, I had no idea you ate here!" she exclaimed, oblivious to the dirty looks they were getting from the rest of the line.

"Excuse me," the mustachioed gentleman directly behind him spoke up tersely.

"Oh, it's okay, they're with me," Lola explained.

The mustache opened his mouth to counter but Daffy cut him off. "We're her secret service staff," he interjected authoritatively, touching his hand to an ear like he was adjusting an invisible ear-piece. "We are required to be within two steps of our client at all times for your own protection."

"Don't you mean_ her _own…" the man began.

"You heard what I said!" Daffy cut him off, spittle flying from his beak. "Now I'll need you to take three and half steps back and keep your voice down. She startles easily. You don't wanna see the last poor sap who did that."

Mustache man glanced nervously from Daffy to Lola, who waved and gave him a wide, perky smile. He obviously decided it wasn't worth protesting his spot in line any further and took several steps back.

"We're almost near the front anyway," Bugs said with a placating shrug.

Instead of getting their food to-go like they had planned Daffy and Lola headed straight for an empty table near the back door. Bugs dragged his tray up to the register and reached for his wallet before the acne-covered clerk informed him it wasn't necessary.

"The lady already covered it," the teenager explained in a flat, bored tone.

"Oh…" Bugs paused, a little caught off guard. "Ok then."

"You're kinda holding up the line…" acne-clerk hinted. Bugs gave a quick apology and pulled a chair up to the little table Daffy and Lola were already seated at, chatting energetically across from each other like they were already old friends.

"So I slam on the breaks, only the breaks turn out to be the accelerator, and then out of nowhere this metal box smashes into my car!" Daffy aggressively shook the hot sauce bottle over his food in rhythm with his story, slapping his free hand against the table to create a banging noise to accent the accident. "The thing flew like a mile, books were everywhere. I was pulling pages off the windshield for weeks. I still say putting that drop-box on the side of the road was an unlawful hazard."

"Tell me about it," Lola sighed, briefly recounting her own library mishap. "I mean, who doesn't bolt their bookshelves to the floor? What if there's an earthquake? Or a tidal wave?"

"Irresponsible," Daffy shook his head sadly. He tipped the hot sauce bottle one last time before setting it back, empty but for a thin layer at the bottom of the bottle.

"You got enough shrimp for that sauce?" Bugs nodded judgmentally at Daffy's plate. "I don't think the fish are supposed ta keep swimming after they're caught."

"It's called flavoring," Daffy took his chopsticks in hand and attempted to pick up a shrimp, only to have it slip out of the grasp of the two little sticks and into the puddle of sauce on his plate with a wet splat.

"So, I get how _you_ know April," Lola said to Daffy. "How does Bugs know her?"

"Who d'you think paid for the new drop-box," Bugs bit into a California roll to keep the sentence from becoming any more bitter than it had to be.

"You were with me during the accident," Daffy explained in a tone that indicated they'd visited this conversation before. "That's a shared liability, it means you pay half." He clicked his chopsticks in Bugs's direction.

"I didn't pay half, I paid all of it," Bugs pointed out.

Lola's eyes widened, "Is _that _what shared liability means?" She glanced sidelong at Bugs. The gears turning in her mind were practically visible behind her eyes.

"No, that's not what that means. And stop that train of thought, please." Bugs said.

"What train?"

"The one that goes to Bugs-happened-to-be-there-when-I-single-handedly-d estroyed-a-public-library-so-he-must-suffer-my-pun ishment-station."

"It be more fun…" she said, leaning forward and batting her lashes.

"Nope," Bugs shook his head. "Not in a million years."

"I've got your book…"

"Keep it."

"We're making it into a game… You could win a set of Bon Jovi tickets."

"Never… wait, what?"

Lola straightened, clearly pleased with the reaction she'd gotten out of him. "Sharon, she's one of the library volunteers, she didn't destroy anything; she got two extra tickets and we decided who ever scores the most book filing points gets them."

"Bon Jovi!? Filing points?" Daffy lit up, suddenly engrossed in where the conversation was going.

"Yeah, I came up with the system. You get two points for every book you file and two hundred for every full rack. And Robert hides a post card of Mt. Rushmore in different spot everyday and if you find it…"

"Bugs, I need to borrow your car," Daffy held out his hand for the keys.

"Daffy, there is no earthly situation where I would let you borrow my car."

"But they're _Bon Jovi tickets_," Daffy whined.

Lola began digging through her purse. "Oh, you could borrow my… _OW!_" She was bluntly interrupted by a swift kick to the shin hidden under the table. She glared at Bugs who was shaking his head and making a little slashing gesture near his neck.

"What? I can borrow _what!?_" Daffy leaned so far across the table his beak was inches from her face.

"Just eat your hot sauce with a side of shrimp," Bugs pushed him back into his seat.

Daffy tossed his chopsticks to the side and tipped his head back, pouring the entire contents of the plate into his open beak. He leveled a smug, spiteful grin at Bugs for a full second before his smile started to falter.

* * *

"I never saw so much smoke come out of a person's ears before," Lola said with a hint of wonder. Daffy was sitting on the curb near Bugs's Prius, looking charred and a bit queasy, gargling a concoction of mouthwash and water while trying not to tip over.

"This is nothing." Bugs leaned back against the restaurant window. The 'We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone' sign reflected backwards through the glass from the outside. "He thought a Molotov cocktail was actually a drink once. At least we didn't need the fire department this time."

"You might as well live," Lola recited.

"That's... not really how that..." Bugs started slowly.

"Cuz the Molotov cocktail..."

"It wasn't an intentional..."

"...it's sorta like a bomb..."

"Don't kill the joke, Lola."

"Sor-_ry_," she made a face that moved suspiciously like an eye-roll. "Anyway, I like him. He seems fun."

"It's hard to have a dull moment, I'll give him that," Bugs shrugged. "Thanks for dinner, by the way. You didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to," she smiled.

"Lola, can you do me a favor?"

Her eyes lit up at the prospect. "Sure, anything!"

"Never let Daffy borrow anything from you. At all. _Ever._ Car, money, especially money, DVDs... I don't care what he tells you he needs it for; just don't let him borrow _anything_."

"Why?"

"Because he's a complete maroon that attracts destruction like a magnet. And I have a feeling you'd give your car to a toothless beach hobo if he asked nicely for it."

"I would not," Lola protested. "I only let my friends borrow things."

Of course Lola would consider Daffy a friend after a fifteen minute sushi dinner. In retrospect they had too much in common for them not getting along to be almost impossible. "Well, just do me this one favor and don't loan Daffy anything. You'd never get it back and he'd end up hurting something… usually himself. He's good at doing whatever's bad for him."

"But not you?"

"Me?" Bugs felt like laughing but didn't. "I always know what's good for me."


	3. Whatever Lola Wants

_A/N: This is another pre-Double Date chapter (last one and we'll move on, I swear). _

_The title is a song from the musical/movie Damn Yankees. Because when I don't know what to title a thing I end up digging through my substantively old-school music collection until I find something that amuses me. It will probably happen again.  
_

* * *

**Whatever Lola Wants  
**

Patricia sat comfortably knitting in the living room, pretending not to notice Lola's obvious, noisy creeping down the stairs. She waited until her daughter had reached the last step before making her presence known.

"Where're you off to in such a hurry?" she asked.

Lola froze in a trademark sneak position with arms poised and one foot hovering off the ground, caught. "Nowhere. Supermarket. Nail salon." Lola rattled off in rapid succession.

"Which is it?"

Lola sagged, her entire posture admitting defeat. "I'm going to Bugs's," she relented.

Patricia had thought as much. "Sweetheart, don't you think you're overdoing it? You've gone over there four nights in row."

"Well, he wasn't home the last two," Lola offered. "And the night before, he went to bed crazily early. I mean, who shuts their lights out at 7:30?"

"So, you've been there every night and only saw him once?"

Lola pulled her arms behind her back, all at once slipping into the skin of the artfully shy little girl she had never completely grown out of. "Technically, yeah. But I won't see him at all if I don't try."

Patricia put her book down. Her daughter meant well but her tendency to focus all her, quite substantial, energy on one solitary thing was eventually going to backfire.

"Honey, did I ever tell you about the first date I had with your father?" she asked.

"Sure," Lola shrugged, parroting as if she'd heard the story a thousand times, "You had the same history class in college, you asked him to go to Aunt Cherie's engagement party, it was a huge disaster, everything went wrong, the salmon gave everybody food poisoning, Aunt Cherie broke up with what's-his-name that she was engaged to, there was a huge fight, Grandpa broke somebody's knee, you snuck out of the house with dad to get a drink and you fell in love."

"That's partly it," Patricia said, "What I didn't tell you was your father had been… well he had been interested in me for some time before that. He left a vase of flowers on my desk every morning before class, he memorized my entire schedule, he asked me out every weekend…"

"I thought _you _got _him_ to go to the party with you?" Lola asked, cocking her head curiously.

"I did, let me finish my story. Your father wanted to date me so badly he was coming off far too strong. And the harder he tried the more uncomfortable I was at the thought of giving him a chance. So one day I pulled him aside and told him to back off, and he did. Well, he also left town for spring break shortly after so we didn't see each other for awhile. But even after he came back, he never left me flowers, he never tried to talk to me. He completely ignored me. And that drove me crazy. All of a sudden I actually wanted to give him a chance because he wasn't trying so hard to impress me. And he waited until I was ready to take the initiative to chase him."

"So what you're saying is I should go away on spring break?" Lola asked.

"No, Lola, I'm saying you shouldn't try so hard. Give Bugs time to come to you."

"How do I do that?"

"Don't do anything. Don't go over there for awhile. Wait for him to call on you instead of you being the one to call him all the time."

Lola glanced down to the floor in a rare uncertain look.

"But what if he doesn't call?" she asked quietly, as if saying it out loud would jinx it into coming true.

Patricia brushed her shoulder in sympathy. "That's a chance you're just going to have to take, dear."

* * *

Lola sat at the edge of her bed with her freshly painted fingernails splayed in front of her fan. Since she'd decided not to drive out and see Bugs she'd painted and then repainted her nails four times. The green had clashed too much with her dress, the fluorescent pink seemed too desperate and the baby blue too subtle. She had settled this time on a deep purple, though even as the polish was drying she was debating trying something else. She wasn't ready to admit yet that she was simply bored.

Her cellphone went off and she sprang up from the bed like lightning. "Hey, Bugs," she said cheerfully into the phone.

"Uh… what?" a strange voice sounded through the phone. Lola deflated.

"Who is this?"

"Ummm, I'm a representative from the department of motor vehicles looking for a Miss Lola Bunny…"

Lola shut off the phone without ceremony and tossed it onto her pillow. She broke out the polish remover and started wiping her nails clean. What was she thinking with a color that dark? She wasn't going to a poetry reading. Or anywhere for that matter…

* * *

Bugs peeked from behind the shades of the living room window. Night had fallen and the cul-de-sac had gotten sleepy and quiet as suburban cul-de-sacs do. The curb across the street was still empty.

"Your girlfriend show up yet?" Daffy remarked, flipping through the channels while munching on handfuls of Cheetos.

"She's not my girlfriend," Bugs retorted automatically. "And I don't see her car. I guess she had better things to do tonight than…"

"Stalk you." Daffy interrupted.

"Not the word I was gonna use, but yes." Bugs stretched out on the couch. Lola had agreed to stop following him into places, but apparently staking out his house was still on the table. He had been able to avoid her for the most part but she still showed up at his door with an unreasonable frequency. A quiet, Lola-free evening was something to look forward to at this point.

"I don't see what the big deal is," Daffy said, "She's not that bad looking if you squint a little."

"She's not bad looking at all." Bugs countered. "She's a nutcase. You're too close to the type, you wouldn't understand."

Daffy made a disdainful face, "Alright, then set her up with some other stooge. Make her someone else's problem," Daffy suggested.

"No good. You remember the wedding? She left with someone else and came back anyway. Like a boomerang." He pulled out a carrot and bit into it, crunching.

"So tell her she looks fat. Problem solved." Daffy turned the bag of Cheetos over, dumping the remaining contents into his open beak in a puff of orange dust.

"I'm not gonna tell her she's fat. She probably wouldn't hear me anyway."

"Then get her picture on the Most Wanted list."

"Daffy…"

"What? You wanted my help, these are great ideas!"

"In the first place, I never asked for your advice," Bugs said, raising one finger, "And in the second place, those were all terrible ideas. I think I'll deal with this on my own."

"By putting the house under lockdown and hiding in your room every time a yellow car drives by?" Daffy asked between licking Cheeto dust off each finger. "Y'know what I think..."

"No, and I don't care to."

"I think you _like_ being chased."

Bugs swallowed down the rest of his carrot in a rough choke. "I whaa..."

"You like being chased," Daffy repeated. "Need I remind you of the Wagnerian soprano incident?"

"That was a completely different situation..."

"The redhead chick with that suspicious look in her eye..."

"Daff, she was after you."

Daffy paused for a short moment, his face scrunched in thought. He sat up all at once and snapped his fingers.

"Milly Broadavich."

Bugs cringed. "That still doesn't prove anything."

"I'm just sayin'. You know if you keep running and hiding, she's gonna keep chasing you. It's the laws of gravity."

"I'm not hiding, I'm just ignoring her," Bugs clarified. "And she hasn't shown up yet tonight, so it's probably working."

Daffy shrugged, unconvinced. "Either that or she's trying to lull you into a false sense of security. Seriously, pawn her off on somebody else or you'll never get rid of her." Daffy picked up the remote.

Bugs rolled his eyes, choosing not to get into an argument with the duck on how creepy and wrong that sounded.

The commercial segment had ended and Daffy changed the channel to an Off Duty Cop rerun. Then he changed it again to a cooking show for a few seconds, then back to Off Duty Cop. Soon he was flipping back and forth between the two shows so quickly it was hard to distinguish what was on.

"Daffy, cut out the channel flipping, just pick one," Bugs sighed.

"I can't! They scheduled Off-Duty Cop and 50 Ways to Serve Green Peas in the same time slot. Blame the network."

"50 ways to serve green peas? I've never even seen you look at a vegetable."

"Who said anything about vegetables? They're baking them into pies, those skills are transferable," Daffy explained. "And besides that the hostess is a stone cold six. Grrrrrrll…" he rolled his tongue, inadvertently spraying half the room.

"Oh, brother. " Bugs rolled his eyes. "I don't know how you can watch anything flipping back and forth like that. It's like trying to watch a strobe light."

"I blame the network."

"Daffy, we have DVR. Why didn't you just record one show and watch it later?"

"Because I don't know how to work it."

"Gimmie that," Bugs snatched the remote and set up the cooking show to record. How Daffy couldn't know how to use the thing when he spent so much time in front of the tv was a mystery best left unsolved. "There. Now you can watch one show at a time like a normal person."

A knock sounded at the door. Bugs solidified like he'd just been dunked in liquid nitrogen, eyes wide, ears perked stiff and straight. He didn't even breathe. The only piece of him that appeared to be moving was his rapidly thumping heart.

The front door shook as it was knocked again, harder. "You gonna get that?" Daffy asked, as unaffected as possible.

That broke whatever spell held Bugs to the couch. He shut off the tv, plunging the house into darkness and sprang off the couch and up the stairs in a millisecond. He poked his head down just far enough to hiss at Daffy, "If you tell her I'm here, I'll ship your body to Antarctica. Got it?"

"Please, discretion is my middle name. Daffy Discretion Duck." He preened, making his way to the noisily abused door. _"Deal with it on my own, my tail-feathers,"_ he muttered under his breath. He pulled the door open and then shouted a sentence neither he nor Bugs ever thought they'd hear in their lifetimes.

"Bugs, good news, Yosemite Sam is here."

* * *

"I've got five bars and no connection. A voice-mail box like death valley. There hasn't been rain in months. A girl could use some service around here."

Lola snapped her fingers. The spotlight sprung to life. She sat perched on a high stool. The conga drummer padded a few sharp beats, loud at first and then steadily softer.

"What is it that you think of me?"

She paused for emphasis, letting the question hang in the silence of the room.

"Operators are standing by. Standing around," she gestured broadly. "What do you do with all that time? Silent as a mime." she covered her mouth for a moment. "You start running mad, or maybe open a bagel shop."

The conga drum rumbled another riff. She snapped again.

"You want one thing. And it's the want of the one that kills you."

"Whatever you want. No matter how little. A sound. A bell. A chime. Stop me on a dime." A xylophone ran several chords after each sentence.

"But it isn't right, it's all off-key. Tell me what you think of me." Another chord. Another snap.

"I order a coffee. Venti. Hot. Two shots of cream and chocolate. Whatever you want."

"Operators are still standing by." The xylophone ran another chord that bled seamlessly into the dull monotone of a busy signal.

"Boost the signal. Clear the static. Do something automatic. Ring me. Sing me. Bring me."_  
_

"All I hear is..."

_Click._

The monotone shut off, as did the spotlight, right on cue. A chorus of appreciative snaps sounded from the audience. Lola removed her black beret and bowed, accepting the applause.

She returned to her seat and the next performer took the stage. It wasn't her first choice of activity for a Friday night, but the poetry group was actually pretty fun. It was a good outlet for expressing emotion, and Lola had a lot of excess emotion to express.

Lola let the next reading fade into the background and doodled all the words she could think of that rhymed with carrot on her napkin.

* * *

"Pardon me, neighbor, but I was a-wonderin' if I could borrow a cup o' salt for ma bar-be-que?" Sam asked with all the politeness he could muster.

Daffy cupped his hands over his beak and yelled, "Bugs, he wants salt!"

"Not so loud, I'm right here," Bugs muttered, appearing behind Daffy, rubbing a finger in the ear Daffy had just yelled into.

"Why's everything so dark over here. Y'all got a problem with yer electric bill?"

"No, nothing like that," Bugs switched the lights back on.

"Bugs is hiding from his girlfriend," Daffy explained.

_ "She's not my girlfriend!"_ Bugs snapped back, growing very tired of having to repeat it.

"Methinks y'all dearth protest too much," Sam's leaned forward conspiratorially, his drawl butchering the famous line.

"Was there something you wanted, Sam?" Bugs narrowed his eyes disdainfully at the shorter man.

"I need some salt for ma bar-be-que. Used all o' mine up on the potato salad."

"You're having a party?" Daffy asked. Yosemite Sam had been living next to them for months and never once seemed to have any friends over.

"What? Nah, I usually cook up some steaks on Fridays. And some potato salad and smoke ribs and corn on the cob. Good for the digestion." He patted his stomach.

Bugs disappeared into the kitchen and came back to the door with a box of salt. "Here," he handed it to Yosemite.

"Much obliged, neighbor. Say, now that I think of it, I used up the last of my bar-be-que sauce last Friday. Y'all wouldn't happen to have any, would ya?"

"No," Bugs responded automatically.

"Could ya check?" Sam asked with a familiar lilt. Bugs briefly considered slamming the door before realizing that would probably make Sam harder to deal with in the long run. He wordlessly left for the kitchen.

"So, you make all this food every week and eat it by yourself?" Daffy asked.

"Or whenever I have a hankerin' for a good tri-tip steak," Sam shrugged. Bugs returned with the sauce and handed Sam the bottle. "Hey," Yosemite brightened, "Why don't you bring yer ladyfriend over for a bite?"

"I told you she's not my girlfriend," Bugs replied.

"Well, what's the matter with her? She ugly?"

"No."

"She try to use ya for yer money?"

"No."

"Her parents gunnin' for yer neck?" He mimed a noose wrapping around his neck and pulling taut.

"No."

"She playin' hard to get?"

"No. If anything she's hard to get rid _of_."

"Ah, so she's the clingy type," Sam stroked his outrageous mustache in thought. "You try tellin' her you're movin' to Antarctica? That's worked for me before."

"Sam, the only way that would work is if she _wanted_ to believe you're moving."

"Well you could ask someone ta take her off yer hands. Maybe in exchange fer a new bar-be-que pit..." Yosemite Sam let the statement hang for a beat. "Y'know, hypothetically," he added.

Bugs slammed the door shut without comment.


	4. Ain't She Sweet

_A/N: This chapter takes place the night after Double Date. The title is a famous jazz standard written in the late twenties. I was introduced to it by a Tweety cartoon as a youngster. _

* * *

**Ain't She Sweet**

"Lola, I thought you said this was a Thai restaurant?" Bugs stared in confusion at the marquee of a giant meatball and forkful of spaghetti that hung over the building. He put the car into park and glanced hesitantly at the young rabbit sitting in the front passenger seat. This couldn't be the place she had been talking about. Maybe they missed a turn somewhere?

"Of course, I eat here all the time." Lola batted a hand conversationally. She had dressed up for the occasion. Her ears were twisted into a bun at the top of her head and held together by a pair of chopsticks. A string of little pink beads dangled off the end of each chopstick and they swayed energetically as she talked. "You guys are gonna love it. Their noodles are _amazing_," she gushed.

Bugs felt a push against the back of his seat as both Daffy and Tina leaned over him simultaneously to get a view of the marquee. "_Ye Old Spaghetti Factory_?" Tina read the sign with an incredulous tone. A wad of gum clicked between her teeth.

"Well, I don't know about you but I'm st-tharved," Daffy lisped. He exited the car in a flash and got halfway to the door before stopping and doubling back. He rested a foot against the car and held out his hand to Tina. "Mademoiselle," he gestured like a knight waiting to help a princess out of a carriage. Bugs cocked an eyebrow. The pose didn't look quite right on Daffy.  
Tina stared at his outstretched hand for a second, shrugged noncommittally, and then took it. The two walked off arm in arm cackling over some unspoken joke.

"Awww," Lola cooed at the two ducks. "Those two are so sweet. Like a pair of nightingales… or partridges."

"This is weird," Bugs said, mostly to himself, as he exited the car. It had taken awhile to process that Daffy now had an honest to goodness girlfriend. Watching him extend any semblance of chivalry to someone without an obvious selfish intent behind it, made Bugs feel like he'd wandered into the Twilight Zone.

"Oh, Bun-Bun!" Lola called out. He turned to find her still in the car, leaning halfway out of her seat and waving wildly at him. It took him a few seconds to realize what she was getting at.

"Oh, boy," Bugs sighed. He opened the door to help her out but she threw her arms around his shoulders and hugged him before he could do much.

Bugs still wasn't sure how exactly it happened, but yesterday, in the span of about two seconds, he'd gone from "Lola's not my girlfriend. And she's crazy." to "Lola's crazy. And also she's my girlfriend." Freud would've had a field day.

"Thanks, Bugs," she took his hand, suddenly growing serious, "And just so you know that thing between Daffy and me… totally over. Like _Stone Age_ over. Like stake it through the heart and sink it on the Queen Mary to the bottom of the…"

"Lola, I get it," Bugs stopped her. "…I think."

Their table was set inside a bright red trolley car sitting in the middle of the restaurant. Everything was chandelier lit and dim, a bit homier and scaled back from last night's place, which honestly kind of surprised Bugs when he considered Lola had picked it.

"Nice place," Tina said with little enthusiasm, "You can really feel the Thai influence."

"I know, right!" Lola replied, obviously missing Tina's sardonic tone. She bowed to the waitress handing out their menus and gave her an "arigatou". The girl stared blankly at the four like she was waiting for some sort of cue for what kind of practical joke she'd walked into, and when none came she awkwardly slipped out of the trolley car without saying a word.

"Uh, Lola, isn't 'arigatou' Japanese?" Bugs asked, daring to wonder if there was some method to her brand of madness.

"Is it?" she replied, innocently.

"It's Italian," Daffy offered, "I should know, I've been to Italy."

"Oh yeah," Tina leaned in close to her still preening boyfriend. "How'd you say this, then?" she pointed to something on the menu.

"Feetu… Feth-ch… uh…" Daffy's tongue twisted over itself, only succeeding in spraying half the table. "I said I've been to Italy, I never said I speak the language," Daffy said haughtily, shutting the menu for emphasis. "Besides, this is Thai food."

Tina chortled. Her laugh came out in sputters with a few dry snorts thrown in. Daffy's ego inflated almost visibly.

The waitress returned with their drinks, each in a glass with a trolley printed on them. Lola grabbed hers excitedly and lifted it for everyone to see. "And the best thing about these is that they let you take them home."

"Wow. Free glass. We should come here more often," Bugs said dryly.

"So lemme get this straight…" Daffy tapped his fingers together, clearly in conspirator mode. "Everyday this restaurant just lets dozens and dozens of customers walk out with eating utensils that they don't have to pay for."

"Yeah! Well, if by 'utensils' you mean 'cups'," Lola explained.

"Will you excuse me for a moment," Daffy said calmly. He then darted out of the booth with an impressive _whoosh_.

Tina turned from staring at the blank seat where her boyfriend once sat to the two rabbits. She and Bugs exchanged identical confused glances. Lola was busy peering at her reflection in the glass. "Any idea what that was about?" Tina asked, referring to Daffy.

"Only time will tell," Bugs responded.

Lola shrugged. "He probably just went to the bathroom." She tipped back her glass and downed her drink in a single, long gulp. She wiped her mouth with the back of her wrist and let out a satisfied sigh. Before either Bugs or Tina could get another word in, Lola blurted, "I have to pee," and exited the booth with a speed to rival Daffy's.

Bugs and Tina were abruptly left alone.

"Well, she seems… perky," Tina said.

"Yeah, that's… a word for it," Bugs replied.

They sat in awkward silence for a few seconds, trying to think of a new place to take the conversation.

"So, where're you from?" Bug's asked.

"Brooklyn. You?"

"Same."

"Small world."

"Yup."

Bugs tapped his fingers against the table. Tina blew a gum bubble the size of a tennis ball and popped it. In the stiffly quiet trolley the sound reverberated like a gunshot.

"Sooo… you and Daffy," Bugs dragged out, "How's that been going?"

"Well, considering I met him yesterday…" Tina trailed off sardonically.

"I know, I mean…" Bugs backpedaled, trying to find the right way to phrase it, "Daffy isn't the easiest person to spend twenty minutes with. Believe me; I've known him a long time. He's self-absorbed, arrogant, probably a sociopath…"

"Pushy, insecure, lies constantly…" Tina interrupted, counting each trait off on her fingers. "And I'm guessing he's not letting you mooch off him out of the goodness of his heart."

Bugs laughed. "He told you that?"

"He said you've been crashing at his place. I take it the house is actually yours?"

He nodded.

"And you're not his butler either, right?"

Bugs sighed, "I'm gonna have to talk with that duck…"

"Don't worry about it," Tina leaned back into the booth, taking out her wad of gum and folding it into her cloth napkin. "I'm pretty good at reading people. If you're trying to warn me about what a basket case Daffy is, I think I've got a pretty good idea."

Bugs frowned at the folded napkin. She and Daffy together was starting to make sense. "And you're still gonna date him?" Bugs asked. "That's a lot of craziness to deal with."

Tina shrugged. "Everybody's crazy at some level. We just wear it different. I've got a dull life with an infuriatingly boring job and a mean mouth. Who knows, maybe I could use some of Daffy's insanity."

Bugs blinked. "He just ran from the table when he learned they give their cups away."

"Yeah, who knows what kind of whacked out scheme we're gonna have to save him from when it finally backfires," Tina exclaimed, like she was describing the plot to an amazing movie or the best ride in an amusement park. Like she couldn't wait to find out what Daffy was up to.

Bugs shook his head and smiled. "So you're totally okay with dating an absurd, selfish little weirdo who lies about everything and can't form a sentence without spitting."

"Yeah," Tina glanced down and a strand of hair fell over her eyes. Bugs could've sworn she was on the verge of blushing. "I think the lisp is kinda cute. Don't tell him I said that," she recovered in a threatening tone.

Bugs lifted one hand in a solemn gesture. "I swear I'll never tell."

The duck smiled and brushed her hair out of her face, and then, as if she was afraid of the conversation dropping back into awkward silence again, shifted the subject a little. "So what about you and Lola, how long have you been together?"

"Last night… I guess…"

"You guess?"

"It's complicated," he muttered defensively. "I blurted out that I was her boyfriend without even thinking and now…I'm honestly not even sure what's going on anymore." He had been feeling a little neglected and jealous, but he still hadn't figured out why. He couldn't decide if she'd genuinely been using him to get to Daffy only it happened to make him jealous instead, or if he'd been the target of some magnificent reverse psychology scheme from the start. The former made him her back-up choice and the latter made him a complete sucker. He wasn't a fan of either.

"Well, do you like her?" Tina asked point blank.

Bugs shifted uncomfortably at the direct question he had absolutely no idea how to answer.

"It's a simple yes or no question, Bugs." Tina remarked.

"Yes… no… I…I dunno," Bugs muttered. "She's cute, but she's ridiculous. She never stops talking, she changes her mind on a dime…"

"What changes on a dime?" a voice sounded from behind.

Bugs whirled around. "Lola! You're back…" Internally, he panicked. How long had she been standing there? How much had she heard? What would she think if she knew they'd been talking about her?

"You would _not believe_ the line to the restroom," Lola said, sitting down. "This woman was there with three kids and only two stalls. I almost gave up and used the men's. But on the plus side their soap smells like lavender," she clasped her hands over her nose and inhaled. "Lavender is my absolute favorite smell in the world. Or was it honeysuckle? No, wait, I'm allergic to honeysuckle…"

A stiff looking man in a suit approached their table, followed quickly by their waitress who, for some reason, was soaked from head to toe and looked none too pleased about it.

"What happened to you?" Tina asked. The girl's eyes flashed red.

"I understand you had a short, black duck in your party?" the man asked.

"What did he do?" Bugs and Tina spoke simultaneously.

"He was taking drinks from other tables," the waitress sputtered, her wet hair clung to her forehead as she glared. "And when he was asked to return to his seat he snuck into the kitchen and trashed it."

"You understand, we had to ask him to leave," the suit took over, polite but terse and leaving no room for discussion. "We have no desire to refuse service to you as well but we can't have him loitering outside the restaurant either."

"I can take care of him," Tina said, reassuringly. She collected her purse, shooting Bugs a knowing smile. "There's a Tutty's down the street. Daffy and I could eat there and meet you back at the car if you two want to stay here."

"Absolutely not!" Lola surprised them all by standing abruptly, a self-righteous frown steeling over her face. "This is a double date. Me and my boyfriend came to have dinner with these two. If one of us is kicked out, we're _all_ kicked out. And the soap doesn't even smell that good here, anyway," she glared at the two employees like the remark was supposed to be cutting.

Bugs briefly considered trying to explain to Lola that Daffy obviously deserved being asked to leave and she shouldn't take it so personally. But her unwavering loyalty to the group, however misguided, was also kind of sweet. And he didn't particularly like Italian food, anyway.

"Looks like we're going to Tutty's," Bugs got up from the table and, before he really had time to talk himself out of it, he reached for Lola's hand. She entwined their fingers. Maybe it was a little childish and ridiculous, but he was okay with being childish and ridiculous sometimes. It was a type of crazy he could handle.

The three of them marched out of the restaurant like they were all too good for the place and not like three suckers who were foolish enough to bring Daffy Duck anywhere.

The duck in question was sulking on the bumper of Bugs' car, muttering something about Castro and Cuba. He perked up when he saw the three friends coming to meet him.

"What'd you do, Daffy?" Tina asked, too calm to be actually angry and too sardonic to be understanding.

"The glasses were supposed to be _free,_" Daffy spread his arms, exasperated. "I thought I'd collect some and change the label, sell them as antiques on the internet, nothing bad… I mean, you shouldn't be so picky about what happens to your products if you're giving them away, that's just common sense…"

"Well, thanks to that display we're going to Tutty's now," Bugs reached for his keys and unlocked the car with a single click.

"It's close enough to walk," Tina pointed out.

"Ehhh," Bugs glanced back at the restaurant, hoping he wouldn't see either the man in the suit or the angered waitress in the window. "I think the fine, hardworking Spaghetti Factory employees would feel much better if we got out of their parking lot as soon as possible." He pulled open his door before realizing something was still clinging to his arm.

"Um, Lola..."

"Yes, Bugs?"

"I'm gonna need that hand to drive…"

"Oh, of course."


End file.
